


Scant Comfort

by Piscaria



Category: Merlin (TV), Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, M/M, Summer Pornathon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piscaria/pseuds/Piscaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before the battle at Dover, Captain Merlin Emrys of the Aerial Corps visits the estate of Lord Arthur Pendragon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scant Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for week three of Summer Pornathon 2011. This version is cleaned up and expanded.

When Merlin Emrys returned to Pendragon Manor for the first time in five years, Arthur almost didn't recognize him. Gone were the frayed and baggy servants' clothes from their youth. Instead, he wore the bottle-green jacket of the Aerial Corps, buttoned formally to the collar. But the look in his eyes brought Arthur back to his boyhood, and the brandy they'd stolen from his father's study, Merlin draped over him, drunk on a few sips.

* * *

 _"Do you want to hear a secret?" Merlin whispered. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, captivating. He ran a finger along the mouth of the bottle, staring down at it. "I think about men, sometimes. At night." He swallowed and looked up, eyes smoldering. "I think about you, Arthur."_

* * *

"Captain Emrys," Arthur managed with a formal nod. Realizing his hands were shaking, he gripped the edge of his desk. "I trust your me – your crew is settled in?" He fumbled over the sentence, blushing.

Emrys's second lieutenant was a sweet-faced young woman who had introduced herself as Gwen Smith. Morgana must be having a field day with her now, Arthur thought grimly. His sister had always argued that women should be allowed more important work. It seemed the Aerial Corp shared her views.

"We're quite comfortable, thank you Lord Pendragon," Emrys said. He'd acquired a clipped, educated accent since they'd last spoken, as incongruous as his uniform, but his voice still warmed Arthur to the core.

* * *

 _"Arthur!" Merlin groaned, spine arching as Arthur suckled him, straining to take his cock deeper. Arthur's jaw ached and a trickle of drool ran obscenely down his chin, but God, he loved this, laving Merlin's cock with teasing licks then sucking him inside until Arthur could barely breathe for the thick press of Merlin's cock in his throat. Merlin's scent left him dazed and helpless. Slim fingers cupped his cheeks, urging Arthur to take him faster. He surrendered, letting Merlin fuck his mouth._

 _Christ. No wonder the ancient pagans had shaped their idols with the cocks jutting out. This felt primal, as if the act of opening his mouth for Merlin jolted awake a bone-deep hunger that had lingered within him since before he was born. Longer._

 _The spill of hot seed in his mouth tasted of life itself, as though he'd tapped the center of the universe in Merlin. Arthur drank it eagerly, even as he shuddered and came in his trousers, untouched._

* * *

"And . . . your dragon? " Arthur couldn't bring himself to name the beast who'd stolen Merlin from him.

Emrys sighed heavily. "Under ordinary circumstances, we'd keep him grounded another week, at least, with a wound like his. To tell you the truth, I don't think he's ready for a battle."

Arthur glanced away, unsure how to respond. Through his father, he'd heard how Bonaparte had masterfully drawn the military's attention to Cape Trefalgar, setting his own sights on Dover all the while. With most of the heavyweights engaged in Spain, the military was scrabbling to defend the beach, even calling on the injured and weak.

A muscle jumped in Emrys's cheek. "Still," he said, with forced levity, "our physician, Gaius, is a talented man. He'll have him up and fighting tomorrow." More quietly, he added, "Thank you for your hospitality. I didn't know where else to take him. He can't sustain a long flight right now."

"I know my duty to King and country."

Emrys bit his lip. "That's funny," he said. "I'd hoped you might be acting out of affection."

And there, he'd done it, jumped right over all the pleasantries and protocol, landing right at the heart of the matter. Arthur had always loved and feared that about Merlin.

* * *

 _"That's it," Merlin whispered, sliding into Arthur with one slow thrust._

 _Arthur pressed his face into the pillow, whimpering from pleasure and shame. Merlin touched the small of his back, steadying him like a skittish mare. And God, he felt like one, letting Merlin mount him from behind like this._

 _"You're beautiful, Arthur. And you love this, don't you?"_

 _He did. God help him, already he was rocking up to meet him._

 _"Yes," Merlin crooned, as though Arthur had answered in words. "Your father's wrong, Arthur. There's no shame in this. It's a gift. You're a gift. Fuck,_ Arthur!"

* * *

"That's impossible," Arthur said shortly. He looked away from Merlin, pained by the old betrayal. "You've made your loyalties clear."

"Yes, there's a bond between a man and his dragon!" Emrys pleaded, sounding as raw and weary as Arthur felt. "But that doesn't mean . . ."

Arthur closed his fingers around the table, trying to keep his voice steady. "You know my views on dragons in the military."

"Your _father_ hates the Aerial Corp!" Emrys protested. "You never did! Not until –"

* * *

 _You smell of sunshine!" Arthur laughed, nuzzling Merlins' stubble. "Were you shirking your duties with Will again?"_

 _"That feral egg he found is ready to hatch," Merlin confessed, stretching against Arthur in a long tease. "Tomorrow, probably. You'll come, won't you? "_

 _Arthur ran a hand up his spine beneath his shirt, loving the feeling of Merlin's warm, bare skin. "I suppose Father doesn't have to know," he allowed._

 _Merlin grinned conspiratorially at Arthur, and drew him down into a kiss._

* * *

Their eyes met. Arthur couldn't breathe as Emrys stepped forward into his space.

"You can hate me tomorrow," Emrys said, setting his hand on Arthur's chest. "I'll probably die at Dover, anyway. Bonaparte's forces have us outnumbered. Just please. Please don't leave things like this."

* * *

 _The egg split, exposing a scaled green head dripping mucus. A piece of shell still clung to one cheek. The dragonet stepped prissily from the shell. Its amber eyes locked on Merlin, who was kneeling forward, transfixed._

 _"Here!" Will said, tentatively offering the slab of raw beef in his hand. "I've got something for you!"_

 _The dragonet glanced at the meat, then back at Merlin. "We've met, have we not?" Its voice was warm and rich, as deep as a grown man's._

 _"No," Merlin said, shrugging helplessly at Will's glare._

 _"Roboris!" Will called desperately, waving the meat in his hand. He'd chosen the name from Arthur's childhood Latin texts._

 _The dragonet ignored him, stepping right up to Merlin, where he knelt at the side of the clearing. "No, we've met each other before. I'm sure of it. What is your name?"_

 _"Merlin Emrys," he said, staring down into the dragonet's eyes. An affection was blooming on his face that Arthur had hitherto seen only directed at himself. Panic beat in his stomach like wings, sudden and sharp._

 _"Merlin!" Arthur snapped, trying to draw his companion's attention away from the beast._

 _Merlin paid him no attention. Neither did the dragonet. It put its paws on his thighs, and brought its face up even with Merlin's, the dragonet's green snout, almost equine in shape, mere inches from Merlin's nose._

 _"And what is mine?"_

 _Will sputtered indignantly._

 _"Merlin, don't!" Arthur warned, stepping forward._

 _Merlin ignored them both. He stared down at the dragonet as though it were the only living thing in the world. As Arthur watched, he lifted a slim, pale hand to pet the ridges on the dragonet's head. Merlin's eyes were wide with wonder._

 _"Kilgarrah," he breathed._

 _Arthur buried his face in his hands, knowing that Merlin was lost to him._

* * *

In the lamplight, Emrys's face looked pale and drawn. The bold expression on his face flickered, revealing an expression of such fear and uncertainty that it shocked Arthur. He'd always admired Emrys's courage.

The hand on Arthur's chest lifted. Emrys turned away, but not before Arthur saw the sudden moisture in his eyes.

Before he'd quite realized his intentions, Arthur was stumbling forward, catching Emrys's shoulder and turning him back around. He crushed Emrys into a kiss, breathing his hurt, anger and loss into it.

The house around them scurried with late-night preparations for battle. Arthur had set his servants to sharpening pitchforks and setting traps in the woods. Bonaparte's forces would have to pass the estate on their journey inland, once theyd inevitably swarmed the beach. Arthur had a pistol. As a youth, he'd been quite good with a sword. But Bonaparte was rumoured to be flying in 50,000 men on dragon-carried platforms. Arthur knew in his heart that he, Emrys, all of Britain, were doomed.

Together, they worked through the buttons on the bottle-green jacket, until it fell from Emrys's shoulders and crumpled, forgotten, on the floor. Arthur ran his hands through Emrys's hair, loosening it from its neat queue. In his shirt sleeves, with his hair wild and his lips bruised from kisses, Emrys looked like his Merlin again. He ducked his head beneath Arthur's gaze, colour blooming on his cheeks, shy now, as he'd never been when they were young. The tears in his eyelashes caught the lamplight, but Merlin smiled through them, lifting a hand to Arthur's face.

"I've missed you," he whispered. "God, Arthur. What happened to us?"

Arthur shook his head, not wanting to speak of the distance between them. Gathering Merlin close again, he brought their mouths together. They'd likely die tomorrow, both of them. Tonight, Arthur couldn't find it in himself to deny either of them the scant comfort they could find in each other.

The End

* * *

(postscript)

> My Dear Lord Pendragon,
> 
> By now, I'm sure you have heard of our remarkable victory at Dover. Britain owes Captain William Laurence and Temeraire a debt of gratitude. As for my own part in the battle, I'm afraid it was rather minimal. Kilgharrah fought bravely, yet his injury betrayed him, as I feared it might. His injured wing took a blast of fire from a Flamme-de-Gloire not an hour into the battle, and he plummeted like a rock. For a moment, I feared that he would drown, taking the whole crew with him, if the fall didn't kill us first. It's a credit to his courage and determination (qualities I've always thought he shared with you) that Kilgharrah managed to land us safely, despite his immense pain.
> 
> We've spent the last two weeks in the covert at Dover, where Gaius has access to the supplies and equipment necessary to treat Kilgharrah. He is recovering well, thanks to Gaius's skill. Next week, we'll be able to risk a short flight, although it will be some time before he's able to tackle a long journey. Might I be so bold as to impose, once more, on your hospitality? Your estate is an easy flight from Dover, and I hope you will agree that we have much we need to discuss.
> 
> Yours sincerely,  
> Captain Merlin Emrys
>
>>   
> 


End file.
